


Shadow of Gold and Silver

by Autistic_council_spectre



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone is Dead, F/F, F/M, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Tags May Change, Well not everyone, and ziira wants to sleep, but the gods say fuck that and fuck you, just a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autistic_council_spectre/pseuds/Autistic_council_spectre
Summary: totally not uploading this for the millionth time bc i suck. title may change who knows anywaysEnter Shaziira Valtieri, morally gray hero who really doesn't want to be a hero and would much rather sleep. But fate has a funny way of forcing you to do things you don't want to do.ft a whole bunch of queer characters, world building headcanons, some destruction of canon, and probably way too many vampires bc im having fun damn it





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: I Came Out To Have A Good Time And I'm Feeling Pretty Attacked Y'all**   
__  
_ She was falling, through an inky blackness that threatened to swallow her whole. She was falling and she didn't know where. She was falling and all she could do was scream until her throat bled. Scream and out tumbled stars of silver. And when she clutched at her throat it simply burned her hands and made her shriek even louder in pain.  _ __  
__  
_ When her tears joined in they were a molten gold that burned as it traced down her cheeks and neck. It was as beautiful as it was painful. As she continued to fall, drops of gold and stardust chasing after her, she stretched her head back to see the jaws of Akatosh open below her. With their eyes watching from the side with a deep sadness as she fell into the jaws of a god, a pitiful scream cut off short as his jaws snapped shut _ .   
  
The cart hit a hole and she jerked awake. Pupils going from infinite black pools to narrow slits as her breath caught in her throat. The dream by itself wasn't unusual on its own, but what was was the fact she was in a cart with her wrists bound and not much of a memory of how she had arrived in this situation.   
  
There was. The campfire, on the edge between Cyrodill and Skyrim. The blood on her hands from a kill (human or animal she didn't remember now did it even matter?). The horse nearby her bedroll already slumbering. And then there was, there was. A fight? She didn't know now and was torn between a desire to know and a desire to be in the dark, lest something decided to force her to play a part. She wanted none of that she just wanted to  _ rest _ . Please Nine let her rest.   
  
Noises eventually dragged her from her thoughts fully, not the click clack of the wheels and the horse, but the voices of men. With that Nordic accent that always so faintly rang of superiority, or maybe she was just embittered in her age. “Good to see you're finally awake, I was starting to wonder if you had died and the Imperials just chucked your corpse up here. You were caught with the rest of us in an ambush remember?” No. She didn't remember, not really anyways. It was a blur of sounds and faint images that was all.   
  
But before she could even open her mouth one of the others cut in, obviously not a soldier from his ragged and dirty clothes. “Damn you Stormcloaks! Before you came to Skyrim everything was fine, Empire was nice and lazy. I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now!”   
  
So she was stuck with Stormcloaks and a thief while surrounded by the Empires men. There was a certain irony in that. “Well we're all brothers in binds now horse-thief.” And all brothers in death soon too.    
  
“And what's his problem huh?”   
  
“Watch your tongue! That's Ulfric Stormcloak the true High-King of Skyrim!” Oh. Oh. The irony only increased by ten fold as she felt a shaky laughter well up inside of her. She was going to finally die and it would be at the hands of the Empire she once served while next to someone who used to be a friend. Flits of their last meeting came up uninvited.   
  
_ “You can't just kill the king, you can't just challenge him like that!” He was stupid and young and he wasn't listening to her. That last aggravated her more than anything else and in her rage she flipped the grand table over. Goblets and food went flying as she snarled at him, that half feral nature bleeding through. “If you do succeed what then? You would condemn your men as traitors! You would be a traitor to be sent to slaughter!” And yet, and yet he only looked at her with mild disdain for her outburst.  _ __  
__  
_ “If, if. Why do you doubt my ability so? I will succeed and they will see-“ _ __  
__  
_ “They will see nothing! They will see a fool and a mad man at that!” She was shaking with rage now and she could hardly control herself. “You will do nothing for your cause but get more killed!” _ __  
_ “Like they aren't already being killed now?! Like the Thalmor aren't already killing and taking people prisoner for the slightest offense?!” He was right, he was right but this was the wrong way to go about it and gods he wasn't listening. He wasn't listening and she would see another friend die and she. _ __  
__  
__ She would not be responsible this time. With an inhuman coldness she spat, “Then you may do as you wish Ulfric but I will not be joining you on your death sentence.” He was warned and that was all that could be done as she turned on her heel, the clicking deafening in that silent chamber and the slam of the iron doors even more so. And if she spent several hours in a panic with claws dug into her ribs to force her to not go back, then at least no one was around to see it happening.    
  
And now she was in fact going to die with him. At least after so many hundreds of years of unlife she could see her family again she supposed, as the carts rolled up to the gates and the thief prayed to silent gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone let this child sleep


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Execution time, where things get a lil violent but not overly so

**Chapter Two: Don't Lose Your Head (Literally)**   
  
The only constant was the click of the wheels on stone accompanied by the clack of horses hooves. That and the distressed muttering of the thief. She caught snatches of words here and there but mostly she was. Gone. Somewhere else in a place where manic laughter bubbled up and she trembled like a leaf.    
  
The world was distorted, like she was looking at it while drunk. Everything seemed to move too fast or two slow and everything bled together in such a way she only grasped snippets of her surroundings fully. High elf. Thalmor to be specific. Lip curled in a sneer. Imperials. Stone faced and disinterested. Children. Being ushered inside. The cart slowly rolling to a stop.   
  
It was the smell of blood, her own, that brought her back just barely. She had clamped her jaws shut so tight to keep her laughter inside she had bitten clean through her lip. And now her tongue flicked out to lick the droplets before they ran down her chin to stain her fur. Everyone around her was moving and on shaking legs she moved to follow them.   
  
Her boots were the last to hit the ground and she contemplated running. This was not how she wished to die this wasn't proper or right. But, but there were too many guards. She could take down maybe six up to ten of them before someone would move just fast enough and up a sword would slide into her heart. Even she couldn't survive that. So she stayed the impulse and apparently the thief had the same thought as her. For he bolted, his legs carrying him quickly but not quickly enough as an arrow went through his back.   
  
One of the imperials jerked her out of her almost trance, eyes flicking from the dead body to him, “You there khajiit. Come forwards.”   
  
She was only partially aware of moving but there she was, moving her legs like a lamb willingly towards the slaughter. “State your name.” Her name yes she. She had one of those. Sharp fangs dug into her tongue as she struggled to think before the words slipped out.   
  
“Shaziira. Valtieri.” That was her name or at least one of the many she clung to in an attempt to keep her identity pieced together. Her claws sunk into her palms to keep them from shaking as the man looked down at his list. Her name wouldn't be on there no one would recognize her she kept herself hidden she didn't want the attention anymore-   
  
“Captain what should we do? Her name isn't on the list.” The captain leaned over his shoulder, eyes flicking briefly over the list before she resumed her first stance with arms crossed.   
  
“It doesn't matter. She goes to the block as well.”   
  
“Captain-“   
  
“Don't argue! She goes to the block.” The world was twisting again as she choked down any noise that may try to worm its way out of her throat. Her head nodded of its own accord as the Imperial made some sentiment about sending her body back home to Elsweyr. If she was more aware she might shriek that wasn't her home but she just. Turned and followed the captain, stopping on the edge of the group to keep away from Ulfric who smelled so heavily of hate hate hate. Or maybe she was imagining it she didn't  _ know _ anymore.   
  
A pompous looking man strode towards Ulfric, general maybe? His armor and the way he carried himself with an air of arrogance like he knew he was unstoppable. But everything could be killed even her. “Ulfric Stormcloak.” Nine even his voice had that arrogant drawl she'd come to associate with men in power. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.” Stupid man stupid she told him. “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the empire is going to put you down like the dog you are and restore the peace.”    
  
It was then a distant roar came and if it wasn't for the heads turning Shaziira would have thought she was hallucinating. “What was that?” That's what she wanted to know as well but she didn't, she swore it sounded like Martin when he. When he. No she wouldn't think of that now.   
  
“It's nothing carry on.” The general waved his hand in dismissal as he walked to stand to the side, watching them with only thinly veiled disdain.   
  
“Yes general, give them their last rites.”   
  
A priest stepped forwards with her face covered to begin the rights, something about commending their souls to Aetherius, as if that was where she would go, before a soldier interrupted with a snap. “For the love of Talos shut up and let's get this over with!” The priest seemed annoyed to be interrupted but Ziira let out a brief bark of a laugh. He had balls she would admit that as he stalked towards the executioner's block.    
  
“Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials can you say the same?” There was a flash of sunlight on the blade and then down. Down it went through bone and muscle before embedding into the wood below. Her eyes were steadily losing focus as people started shouting, but it sounded like it was coming through cotton.    
  
The body was removed and then, she was being shoved? Why? But she moved with them anyways and finally registered what was happening as her knees hit the cobblestones and a boot was on her back. In any other time she'd have made jokes about finding this hot. But the fact she was going to die here combined with steadily growing roars ruined the amusement of the situation. That and. The fucking massive black dragon on the tower that judging by the screams was not in fact a hallucination. And then it started. Raining fire?   
  
The axe was still in the air but it fell as the executioner did mere inches from her head along with flaming rocks, one of which slammed into her leg. That was enough to drag her out of her stupor and shriek in a mix of pain and terror. It was time to run to flee as fast as possible, but that was fated to not happen as something slammed into her back and the world swam around her before blessed, blessed darkness consumed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the reason the sentences are weird in some spots is ziira is in dissociation station!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get gaaaay and also kinda sad

 

**Chapter Three: What's A Little Murder Between Friends?**   
  


_ Eight and One but she was tired, a bone deep tired that made her want to sleep for the rest of her life as she dragged her way into the seemingly abandoned house. A few steps down the stairs, there's the door and then. Home. Or what she had taken to calling home recently. The sanctuary of the Dark Brotherhood, a group of assassin's that lived their lives in the shadows, killing any and all, even the highest man was not safe! _

_ Neither was Ziira it seemed as she collapsed into bed. This was it, this was how she went, murdered via exhaustion. What a way to go. She lay there for quite some time, face down and half off the damn thing in a place between being awake and being asleep, before someone came and sat next to her. A friend but which friend? _

_ The bed creaked ever so slightly before a hand was rested between her shoulder blades. It rubbed in little circles and the owner hummed gently. “Hard mission?” The voice was soft and slightly accented, one that was capable of making her blush and squirm when it complimented her. The only response this time however was a little nod before she sluggishly dragged herself all the way into bed. One must pretend to be a person when entertaining a lady friend.    
_

_ The owner of the hand removed it which garnered a weak whine before it started to help her out of her armor. Boots first, then the leggings, smooth scaled hands stroking up her legs. A gentle tug to sit up and the chest piece was removed along with the arms. Hands returned to stroke her stomach up her bony ribs that made her sigh and lean into the touch. “Ocheeva..” Ocheeva, Ocheeva her darling with talented hands that eased away the hurt, smoothed away the stress. _

_ She let her eyes close as she was gently pushed back into the bed, bare but for her under clothes as her girlfriend eased away the pains with strokes and rubs. It was so good having her massage the aches out of her back, claws idly tracing up the marks in her fur. The strokes were supplemented with a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, just a faint hint of teeth as well that made her shiver all over. _

_ It wasn't long before she was a puddle that was easily rolled on to her back where Ocheeva kissed her. Once on the collarbone, then the neck, jaw and finally mouth. She kissed back wholeheartedly with the faintest moan, arms automatically going around her waist to pull her closer. This was so...good. Nice and warm against her like this. It was times like this that made her want to stay here in the warm embrace of her and never leave the bed again. _

_ But something was wrong. Reluctantly Shaziira broke the kiss and moved her hands to cup her lovers face. “Ocheeva..you're dead. Aren't you?” Her hands moved down to her chest where a heartbeat should be. There was nothing there but the gentle up and down motion of fake breaths as Ocheeva simply smiled down sadly at her. “I'm sorry…” _

_ She was kissed again once more before gentle hands stroked  away her tears. “Hush darling one. It will all work out in the end yes? But for now it's time to for you to wake up.” _

Shaziira woke with a gasp, sitting bolt up in the bed, claws gripping the bedding underneath her. She blinked, once, twice, three times before slowly laying back down. Biting back a shaky breath she closed her eyes and let sleep take her away. Not yet wanting to wonder where she was or how she was alive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well we had a few happy seconds there  
> edited 2 make it slighly gayer™ and flow better


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder that ziir Is a vampire  
> so towards the end theres some feeding so feel free to skip everything after the paragraph where she faints if that's uncomfortable
> 
> edit: if ur new here disregard this! If not i updated the chapter a good amount (who let 3am me post???) so it's much more cohesive and better written
> 
> i swear im not meaning to make a habit of this y'all

**Chapter Four: Now What In The Hell Did I Miss?**

 

She absolutely did not want to wake up. It was between the not wishing to wake of an exhausted person and of one who simply wished to cease existing. But the house was bustling, demanding that one wake up, so she did with a groan and started to asses the situation that she was unceremoniously tossed head first into. Again.

Her clothes she was originally wearing were gone somewhere that she hoped was nearby. In their place were soft brown linens, a pair of pants and a shirt that fit just a tad too loose that smelled. Odd somehow. Too clean perhaps? It had been quite some time since she had been in proper civilization..

Her limbs appeared in one piece albeit bandaged and a mental note was added to ask what wounds she suffered. Coursery feelings showed she didn't have any broken bones however her ribs and side appeared to be bruised to hell and back so that was going to be fun. Especially with her not having fed in so long. Fuck.

Shaziira contemplated for a long time simply staying in bed, potentially playing dead, but with a groan she pulled herself out of the borrowed bed. Yep. Something was definitely wrong with her legs because that hurt. Like a bitch, fuck her entire life and fuck the gods. She was going to kill herself out of sheer spite for the express purpose of getting into a fist fight with the Eight and One.

Hissing slightly with each step she dragged herself up the stairs, clinging tightly to the banister on the off chance she took a tumble. Hopefully this way it would limit the possibility of a broken skull or other bodily parts. However her brain did decide to give her the ever lovely thought of tossing herself down the stairs, maybe it would finally kill her! No. She was not going to do that, be quiet brain no asked for your stupid opinion here.

The appearance of a large bandaged khajiit would not go unnoticed it would unfortunately seem as everyone in the house looked at her when she arrived at the top of the stairs. Lovely. And to add insult to injury who was sitting there? High King dumbass Ulfric Stormcloak, however before either of them could say a word the woman rapped her hand on the table and announced, “Alright. Everyone get out.” All objections were met with a fearsome glare that left the men skittering and Ziira looked at her in thanks before cautiously taking a seat. If someone could send Ulfric running like that it would probably be for the best to stay on her guard. 

“So you're the one the King hates- no don't say a thing I don't want to hear it. He was yelling up a storm earlier, trust me I've heard enough for a lifetime.” The woman, who's name she still didn't know, chatted away as she began filling a plate with all sorts of food but mostly meat. Chicken, rabbit, venison, and Shaziira's stomach helpfully informed her that yes she was in fact starving. “I don't really know what your kind eats sorry to say, so I just kind of threw everything together yknow?” It took a deeply tense moment for her to register what she meant before she nodded one, two, three times. Gotta make it a good number.

“I ah. Yes thank you, this is wonderful.” The plate was placed in front of her and she gave a well measured smile, enough to show thanks but hide the fangs. Internally she gave a brief thanks to Akatosh before digging in. She at least had some sense of mind to pretend to be civilized and slow her eating but it was so. Good, staying in a warm house and eating proper food again. Of course the back of her brain itched for  _ other _ food but that would be a future problem to deal with.

She could feel the woman watching her upon occasion as she moved around the house and seemed to be packing something, seemingly not wanting to upset her by mistake. Shaziira had to wonder for a moment what exactly Ulfric had said before she shook her head. No she didn't need to know, she didn't  _ want _ to know. As her meal was finished she stood slowly from her chair before inquiring just a little awkwardly, “Did..the armor I was wearing survive with me? And what. Exactly is the extent of my wounds?”

The woman, fuck she needed to learn her name, looked up at her before nodding and holding out her arm. Of course Shaziira took it gratefully and was lead through to a  side room. “I patched it up and put it in the other room. Thing got burned like you did.” The room appeared to be a work room of a sort, arms and armor strewn about with hers draped over a chair. Bandages and medicine also layed about, in case of injury working with the weapons she assumed. “Come on have a seat let me check you up then I'll help you back in your armor, I know your type. You were out for a few days but Ulfric assured us that was.. normal for you.”

It took all of her willpower to not tense up and flee immediately at that. Her brain reminded her fortunately that she wouldn't get far broken like this and the fact she had her head attached was a good sign that he didn't say anything too..secret. Badly kept secret but still.

She was helped into the chair that her armor lay on before stretching out her legs with a little hiss. The woman kneeled and slowly started to unwrap the bandages, fingers occasionally brushing past her fur. The callouses suggested she worked, along with the appearance of her clothes and house she would guess they were in a smaller village. But that would be investigated later, for now she had more important information to discover. “I don't. Believe we've had a chance to be introduced yet.”

She hummed briefly as she stilled her unwrapping, from what she could see her legs had been badly burned, fur missing in odd patches and the flesh left behind red and slightly blistered. Awful. “Gurder. I run the saw mill here in Riverwood with my husband Hod, one of the men who was with you is my brother Ralof.”

Firm but gentle fingers finished unwrapping one leg as she absorbed this information and thought back.  _ Ralof. Stormcloak? Yes, talked to the thief who is now dead. Brother in arms to Ulfric, mental note be wary. Sister is nice, gentle, wary but warm. Mill? Village then yes, larger than anticipated. Need to find out where closest proper town is and- _

She was pulled out of her thoughts with a swear and reflexive kick to the womans, no not a nameless woman now Gurder, chest that sent her sprawling on her back. “Eight and One I apologize I had no intention-” But she was waved off with a laugh as Gurder sat up, brushing off her chest where the kick had landed. It went to show how badly she was hurt that she wasn't broken or dead. That or this woman was more resilient than she first assumed.

“It's alright I should have warned you first. Medicine stings like a son of a whore before it kicks in.” That. Was an understatement of the utmost extreme. But Shaziira simply nodded and extended her leg again, hissing and curling her sharp clawed toes as Gurder slowly cleaned the wound. She was eternally grateful for the willpower that left her still although once more fleeing briefly crossed her mind.

However soon enough it did appear to kick in and she was left feeling, well not living fully but better. Afterwards gentle hands wrapped clean linen around her legs from ankle to thigh. Her arms were examined next although luckily it appeared it was mainly deep cuts and bruising that would heal easier. Her back received a similar examination which gave the same results, deep bruising with some scrapes from something but overall she was functional. A fucking miracle that was which of course was remarked upon. “With what they said happened I'm surprised you're not more fucked than this. I'm happy of course you're fine but the gods must be looking after you.”

She gave a non-committal hum in response, of course the gods would be looking after her! Wouldn't want their prized toy getting broken or killed now would they? But she didn't want to dwell on that and shook the thoughts away. Her armor and plans of leaving were more important. “You said it got burned?” She found this hard to believe as she picked it up and deft fingers slowly traced patterns over the leather.

“Aye but the local smith patched it up. He's a hard worker and one of the best craftsman.” She had to agree with that as the fixes were damn near unnoticeable. Of course if one looked hard enough they could tell a faint change in the black here and there but overall? A miracle and a gift. She made a mental note to thank this smithy before blinking briefly in surprise and annoyance when Gurder gently removed the armor. “Like i said I know your type, but I doubt in your condition you'd be able to get armor on easily.”

She seemed to know what she was doing at least as she began to pull the leather up her legs and strap the various buckles in place. “My type?”

“The warrior type or the sneaky one.” Deft hands maneuvered around her tail and snapped the buckle into place there. “You get all twitchy without your armor.” The hands brushed past her ribs and she shivered out of reflex to the warm touch before dark leather was clasped around her, fitting tight enough to not dangle but loose enough to not impede movement. “Honestly I'm half convinced you people sleep in the damn thing.”

Arms were next with the gloves attached, much easier and quicker that way truly, while the tips of her fingers poked through the holes. Her people had natural weapons why hide them away? Her boots she could handle herself and she talked as she tightened the laces. “It's practical to keep myself in my armor. There are more than a few.. unfavorable people who would like to see me dead or worse.” Admittedly many thought she was dead now but one could never be too cautious about this sort of thing. Once laced she stood cautiously, her legs seemed to be holding for now thank the Eight and One. “Is there any way I can repay you for your kindness?”

An arm was offered and again gratefully taken before she was lead back to the main of the house. “Actually yes if it's not too much trouble. If there really is a dragon then Riverwood has no way to defend itself. Could you..perhaps speak to the jarl of Whiterun? And tell him what's happened?” She looked so hopeful and Shaziira hesitated. This was the kind of thing that lead to her being forced into a role she didn't want to play but she nodded nonetheless and was summarily hugged in thanks. Unfortunately only her burns and cuts weren't in any pain for the time being, her bruises were still fully capable of protesting and protest they did.

Thankfully the hug was blessedly short and she was released after only a moment. Gurder removed herself from her side long enough to scoop up a bag and gently thrust it against her chest. “Supplies, food, a good map and medicine. Enough money to get you some weapons and whatever else you'll need at the merchants.” She blinked a few times as the information was registered before responding.

“You were assuming I would agree then?”

“No. But from what the High King said it sounded like you hardly stay in one place for very long.” Fair enough she supposed and she nodded three times again before slinging the bag over her shoulder and turning to leave. A deep breath was taken and then released before pushing open the door into the bright light that took her several moments to adjust to.

Now was the time for yet another adventure. Unfortunately. Fuck her entire existence but she did not want to do this.

It wasn't her choice however and she began the walk through the tiny town to find one blacksmith and then Ulfric Stormcloak to ask him for a favor neither of them wanted to deal with. Perhaps she was stalling in seeking out the smith first but who could blame her after the incident when she left? Ulfric had always had a temper and she only brought that out more.

The blessed Lady of Luck was on her side this one time as she found the smithy fairly easily. Past the smith was the sawmill where Ulfric was found easily enough, speaking with whom she assumed was either Hod or Ralof but he would he a future problem. For now she steeled her nerves and allowed her feet to pat silently along the wooden stairs to the smithy.

“I am told a smith repaired my armor. And as you are the only one I see I assume this is you?” The man didn't look up at her as he replied, eyes fully focused on pounding a red hot piece of metal.

“Aye and it was damned hard. Took the longest time to dye leather that black, even longer to stitch it together. Whoever made it was certainly a master at their craft.” Indeed they were but Shaziira was also a master of upkeep. Which was how the armor had survived for a few hundred years in a house she hardly lived in. Before being pulled on again in some fit of nostalgia or some sort.

“I thank you then. This armor is.. exceedingly special to me and I was concerned it had become ruined in the flames. Do you require some form of payment for your work?” At that his eyes flicked up briefly in a look she would swore was offended before returning to his work. The metal was slowly being shaped from a red slab of metal to something more recognizable as a sword.

“No. Being able to work on that armor was reward enough along with your weapons.” The half shaped sword was dumped into a vat of water to hiss and steam before he turned away to the work table nearby. Truly she was damaged for she had hardly remembered to inquire into her knives whereabouts.

But there they were laying on a white sheet in the smith's hands, a stark contrast to the black soot that covered them and even starker still against her blades. The knives themselves gleamed as if they had just been made, ebony that sucked out the light with golden and silver handles like a small star had been put inside of them.

Garish she first called them! Obvious and ridiculous! But they grew on her and now she reached out with an unusually gentle hand to lift one, finger pressing just slightly against the sharpened edge. But just that was enough to draw blood and a quick smile danced on her lips before moving back to her usual somber state.

The smithy gave her a knowing smile of one who understood her fascination with blades. Her love and zeal when it came to them could hardly be matched. So she placed them reverently back into their places, in the spaces of her hip and back the armor had been made just for. Holding and concealing them but with an ease to regain them.

She thanked him once more and was returned a simple nod as she left for her next target. Ulfric Stormcloak. Fortune smiled on her in that he had remained at the narby sawmill to work!

The unfortunate aspect of this however was the fact he was holding an axe. Beautiful, wonderful.  _ Fuck _ . Was she certain it was too late to turn back? Unfortunately she was.

The axe came down and split the wood in two with a sharp crack, she reflexively grabbed her throat and tried to steady her breathing. More likely than not he wouldn't kill her with witnesses. Right? He wasn't that stupid. Reckless yes but not like that.

However it would seem he was a different kind of stupid and when he saw her clocked her right in the jaw hard enough to knock her down and a bruise to begin blossoming. She lay on the ground for hardly a moment before springing back up and throwing herself at him, fangs bared and all, wounds be damned she was going to take him down even if she went with him.

Apparently he wasn't expecting this and was slammed hard into the ground, control of the situation wrested easily away from him as they rolled. If she was going to make it a fair fight she would have limited the use of claws and fangs but she didn't  _ care _ . She didn't even have a chance to say anything before he punched her  _ how dare he. The arrogant presumptuous fuck. _

The fight had hardly started however before she was tugged off by rough hands hissing and snarling. The King lay on the ground panting, blood dripping from a wound in his head and bloody claw marks up and down his chest. It looked like a black eye would be forming soon as well. Good. He deserved it.

Shaziira twisted in the person's grip. She wanted back out and back at him, make him pay properly for the things he had done. But she was held back semi firm. “Shit, fuck. Damn it Ulfric you didn't tell me how strong she was.” Not strong enough to get away unfortunately and in her weakened state she soon wore herself out.

So she was stuck in a stranger's arms panting and snarling at Ulfric all sharp teeth and even sharper rage while he stumbled to his feet. She itched to sink her teeth back into his neck and tear it out. Dig in until she hit bone and he struggled underneath her and and- fuck! No she wasn't allowed to think those thoughts! She wasn't a feral not yet anyways.

“-doing here cat? Fuck can you even understand me? What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

What was she doing here? He had to the  _ gal, the Fucking audacity,  _ to punch her and then demand to know what she was doing there? “Currently. Currently I'm being held back by one of your curs after being decked by you for no logical reason!” He seemed startled by her outburst, pausing a moment to press a hand to the long cut on his head in some attempt to stop the bleeding. Which was apparently the cue for her body to protest  _ very _ loudly what had just happened and for her to let out a high pitched keen of pain.

The next thing she knew she was laying on her back on the ground with the High King looking at her in some semblance of concern along with another man. Ralof? Yes, no, potentially? Probably. He looked vaguely familiar at the very least. “How injured  _ are _ you Shaziira?”

“Gods be damned if I know. What do you care anyways-” She was cut off rather suddenly by a bloodied hand being shoved against her mouth that prompted her to reflexively lick at it. Sharp and cold like the person it belonged to with a metallic aftertaste she would never get used to. After his hand was cleaned of blood it was pulled back and she gasped briefly. Her pupils were wide enough only tiny red rings could be seen and she shuddered all over, her body was trying to use the meager amount to fix the damage and it was not pleasant.

Her muscles ached and her skin itched where it was trying to regrow before she had a wrist pushed against her mouth. Instinct took over and she bit down on it, too far gone to remotely care about the other person with them looking at her in a cross of fascination and disgust.

The veins were close to the skin so it was easy for her to feed but she also had to be careful. Her fangs were slowly removed before she lapped up the blood flowing out of his wrist, vampire saliva served as a mild clotting agent so he wouldn't bleed out. It also had the plus of being an anaesthetic so he only flinched briefly before allowing her to do her work.

The blood in turn did it's work at a much more accelerated pace with the larger quantity of it. Muscles slowly eased their ache, bruises faded from deep purple almost black to yellow to gone, flesh knotted back together and regrew on the places that burned away. The regrown flesh itched and stung like hell but luckily the feeling faded shortly.

Instinct told her to keep her fangs on his wrist, drink until she was sated several times over and he was gone. Then she could bite down on herself and force him to feed and then he'd be one of them- but no. No. She pulled her head back after licking the wounds again and again til the blood clotted fully and wounds closed. He would have two small marks later and a slight bruise but other than that? No sign.

She was full for the first time in a long time as she looked at him. He examined his wrist in a look of contemplation before looking up at her. She avoided his eyes and fixed them instead on his cheek just slightly lower, close enough no one could tell. “Shaziira. What are you doing here?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't.. _ know _ ?” He gave her that look like he was unsure if she was lying or had handed him a blistering hot fragment of a truth that she clutched so tight to her chest like a babe. She in turn gave him a blank mask as she rose to her feet. Her legs didn't protest this time and neither did her ribs, a miracle truly.  _ A curse really _ her brain helpfully murmured in the background.

  
“Yes. I don't know what I'm doing Ulfric. And I doubt you do either. So I guess we'll just have to see won't we?” She gave him and Ralof a nod before grabbing her bag where it had fallen during their brief scuffle, she wouldn't call it a fight really, before turning to leave. “Don't do anything too stupid for once in your life please. I'd hate to be the one to have to clean up your mess.  _ Again _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took longer than meant to rip me


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a logical explanation for this:  
> depression came and beat the /Fuck/ out of my ass as it does

**Chapter Five: A Quest Added, A Companion Achieved**

 

From the outside Shaziira Valtieri was calm and poised as she walked away from the High King and his lackey, her walk that of a graceful and silent predator. Inside however she was hyperventilating and was fairly certain at any moment she'd hear footsteps and then! Then off her head would go and she'd only have a moment to think “oh no” before the curtains shut and the stage faded away to black. And then she'd be. Somewhere?

She didn't know where anymore. The Eight and One laid claim to her soul but so did certain Princes whom she refused to name lest they turn their attention back to her. Or perhaps she would end up in the Isles where He fell and she became One with Him. (Or did that not happen? Her timeline was muddled there and she didn't dare think on it too much. Too many things locked away, secrets that grabbed with sharp claws and sharper teeth to threaten to pull her under again into a dark sea of her mind.)

Then suddenly she stopped in front of a door and had to blink a few times. Her brain had turned off for a moment and led her to...the merchants it would seem. Alright. Okay.  _ Why _ .

She had had absolutely  _ enough _ of people for one day. Shaziira did  _ not _ want to open that door and have to speak to yet another person.

Her hands however were nimble little traitors and pushed on the wooden door before she could stop them. Her feet were their accomplices and led her inside.  _ Bastards _ .

It would seem life wouldn't grant her a reprieve, but then when did it ever?, as she stumbled into a loud, lively argument that sent her ears seeking refuge back against her skull. “For the last time no! Absolutely not! I don't need you galavanting around in those barrows and getting yourself killed!”

“I've been up to them plenty of times and nothing ever happened-”

“When you were younger yes and weren't foolhardy enough to go inside! You're being ridiculous and-” His tirade was cut off as he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. “And we have a customer. Do come in properly I'm sorry about our little...tif.” Well there went any plans of attempting to skitter out the door again.

“It is. It's quite alright. May I inquire as to what has happened to cause such an upset?” Really she couldn't care less but..she didn't enjoy the  _ tone _ of the argument. One that reeked of the man thinking himself better by  _ virtue _ of being a man so she quietly entertained the idea of fixing the problem and smoothing over the nonsense. For now at the very least. Future plans would be made if the girl was harmed in any way.

“Oh it's nothing really just an old family ornament.” Somehow she doubted that it was “just” an  ornament and her claws rasped lightly against the wood of the counter in thought. “Some thieves came in and took the damn thing. I managed to trace them up to Bleak Falls Barrow but I can't just leave to get it. My sister can't either.”

Her brain silently slotted that bit of information away for future use as she nodded.  _ Sister not a lover so he's either an ass out of familial ties or simply an ass in general.  _ “I was on my way up to Whiterun anyhow. Perhaps along the way I can head to the Barrow and retrieve this...claw.”

He instantly lit up at that and nodded quickly as he spoke. “Oh would you? That would be wonderful and of course I'd be willing to compensate you for your time.” She nodded back at him out of reflex before pulling out her map, an old worn thing marked all over with names of places along with her own shorthand scrawled underneath them.

The barrow it would seem, as he marked it on her map, was only a short distance away from Riverwood itself. It made sense of course to have the place where the dead may lie so close and yet...she was reminded of the times when the dead had chosen to walk again in such lonely crypts. Being so close would mean easy access to people if they ever decided to stumble out again.

She tuned back in slightly as he spoke once more. “...lves tend to frequent the area but shouldn't bother you if you don't bother them. There's been bandit sightings however so if I were you I'd be on your guard, wouldn't want to get taken out by one of them nasty folks.” If there truly were bandits it would be an opportunity to feed more properly..bandits weren't her normal fare but beggars can't be choosers as they say.

“Thank you for the warning, I'll be careful. And I shall return soon with your claw.” Nods were exchanged before she turned to leave, catching just a glimpse of a peculiar look on the young woman's face. She couldn't quite place it but..she was certain it wouldn't concern her. Hopefully.

\----

The merchant had been correct that there were wolves in the area, she was hardly halfway up the slope before she heard a familiar deep throated snarl. This one however had an edge of pain to it so it was reflex that made her head snap from the path towards the noise.

A gargantuan wolf was caught with a sharp toothed trap around her leg, but that didn't make her any less determined to be threatening. Eight and One but she could relate.

The wolf herself was a massive beauty, a pitch black coat with golden eyes and fangs that could tear her apart in a heartbeat if she wanted to. Shaziira had always been enamored with wolves and now was no exception.

They stayed like that for a long moment, two predators staring each other down with the wolf for her part keeping up the deep growl. In the end she wavered and did as was the norm: be foolhardy in a way that could lose her a hand. Especially to this one, she..wasn't normal that much Shaziira knew. Most wolves didn't have fangs the size of her head

Aforementioned hands were held out in a placating matter as she crouched, working to make herself seem smaller as she approached. When the snarls would pick up in pitch she would merely pause and wait a moment til they died down again.

Soon she was close enough to touch her coat. Or be ripped to shreds.

Ever so slowly she reached towards the bear trap, pausing when shifting it made her let out a pained whine, to carefully feel along for the release. She could feel those watchful eyes on her as she searched before letting out a pleased sound; her prize was towards the back and with a press the trap sprang open once more.

The wolf was freed and instantly surged to feet. Unfortunately to fall again a moment later as her leg refused to support her. “Poor darling..” She murmured so softly as the wolf lay on her side, a weak little whine uttered and Shaziira's heart quite quickly melted.

Healing magic had never been her forte, that had been Martin, but she had a vague idea of what to do from watching him.

As slowly as before she reached towards the wolf to lay soft hands on the bloody wounds.  _ Inhale, exhale, reach inside of you for that well you know exists as shallow as it is. Then tell the universe: this! This is how it shall be. _

A bright golden light enveloped both her hands and her leg, hiding the wounds temporarily from view. And when the light faded and her hands were removed...the wound was gone. Naught but light scarring to mark where the trap once dug into her.

The wolf let out a little whine before slowly trying to stand again. This time her legs were supported and Shaziiras heart was filled with joy, even more so when the beauty darted forwards to lick and nuzzle at her. Her tongue was larger than her entire face and she laughed for the first time in months, stroking and ruffling the fur of this beauty in return for the adoring if slobbery licks.

Eventually however she knew she would have to return to her mission so she gently shoved the wolf away to stand herself. Even then however she towered over her and Shaziira was absolutely certain this was not a normal wolf. But..that would be a future her problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ziir is a mood bc i too would adopt a not a wolf on the basis of big babie


	6. Chapter 6

Hey to the few of y'all who read this fic, sorry to get y'all's hope up for a new chapter :') so this is a kinda update/question chapter:  
So I've been staring at this fic for awhile now and honestly some parts feel really. Just off and weird? The plot points are a lil weird and it feels like I've rushed into it (ironic to say with only 5 chapters I know) SO I'm considering doing yet another rewrite. "Nihlus why are you like this" no idea I just kinda am.   
It's still up in the air tho so comment below your opinions if you have any :0 if I do rewrite it it'll be under the same name and the chapters will be mostly the same, just written a little bit better and more cohesive.


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